The Children Star (29 page)

As the lightcraft approached the lock, the young colonists picked up their backpacks. Rod tried at least to smooth Chae's hair, and Haemum managed to dig out a comb. But nothing could help the tumbleround smell.

“Don't touch the walls,” warned Station. The nanoplastic entrance pulled open about twice as wide as usual. “Proceed immediately to Decontamination.”

Just inside the gate waited Khral. Rod stopped. He wanted to accuse her—of what? Of being wrong, or of being right too late? The words froze in his throat. For a moment nothing existed but her eyes. Then he took a step, and she was in his arms. He held her fiercely, as if his hands had taken on a life of their own. Her body melted into his, and her fingers caught his hair. Then he realized that she, too, wanted more than a greeting.
You are being tested
. . . . Slowly he released her, letting his arms fall aside.

Khral said, “I'm so sorry, about everything. I—”

“It's none of your fault,” he murmured.

“We should have protected the children.”

Before he could speak again, Station interrupted. “Proceed to Decontamination.”

Khral picked up the backpacks. “Come on, let's keep Station happy. Not that it can make much difference.”

“What do you mean?”

“If those microzoöids learn to grow in nanoplast, we're
finished. The Fold will incinerate Station, too, along with the planet.”

After extensive bathing and disinfecting, the three colonists sat in the clinic while the caterpillar medics injected nanoservos to probe them for silicates. Rod reached Mother Artemis on the holo, at the satellite expansion which housed the rest of Prokaryon's human refugees. Her nanoplastic hair reached toward him, as if to escape. “I have prayed for you without ceasing.”

Rod's face twisted, seeking what could not be said in words. “Did everyone get out all right?” he demanded at last. “How are they treating you?”

“We are all well. Three Crows has been a big help to us. He'll stay as long as we need.”

He smiled, wondering what Elk would think. The Reverend Mother could have quite an influence on people. “We'll be with you soon.”

“Not too soon.” The medic arched its long back, waving its forelimbs. “All three of you are carriers. Brother Rhodonite carries the most; at least ten thousand silicates were counted in your cerebrospinal fluid, most of them concentrated around your occipital lobe. Haemum has nearly as many; there's little we can do for her. But Chae has fewer than a hundred. We've been able to clear that many from a carrier without inducing meningitis.”

“That is good,” said Station. “After he is cleared, he can rejoin your colony.”

Rod patted Chae's shoulder. “You've done a brave job, Brother. The family will be glad to see you again.”

Mother Artemis nodded. “You'll return to a hero's welcome.”

“I just want to help Prokaryon,” Chae said, but he looked enormously relieved.

“Brother Rod,” asked Haemum, “what about us?”

“You will join the quarantined sector,” said the medic.

“Without whirrs,” said Station, “you're not infectious; but we're taking every precaution.”

Haemum frowned. “I want to help Brother Rod.”

“You've done more than enough, Sister,” said Rod. “You need to resume your studies.”

For a moment her face took on an expression strikingly like 'jum's. “Come on, Chae,” she said coldly. “I'm sure the
adults
have everything under control.” Rod watched them leave, thinking sadly, how fast they had grown.

Mother Artemis said, “We know you have a job to do, Rod.” Too soon, her image was gone.

Rod thought of something. “What becomes of the silicates that are ‘cleared'?”

Station said, “We add them to the cultures.”

“Against my better judgment,” said the medic suddenly. “Deadly infectious material should be sterilized.”

Later in the research lab, Rod asked Khral again about the cultures. Khral shuddered. “They don't survive that long in the cultures either. They need a live host. Let's hope their friends are forgiving. All
we've
lost so far is a dead dog, whereas they . . .”

He did not like the implications. Ten thousand “people” inside his head—how long would he have to keep them before they found a new home?

In the laboratory, amidst the shifting implements of nanoplast, sat 'jum, holding Sarai's two phototipped vines, one in each hand. With her thumbs she covered and uncovered
the lights to make them flash. She stared at them fixedly, not looking up even to greet Brother Rod.

Elk was watching her, as he took notes on the holostage. “She says the microzoöids are inside her,” the tall Bronze Skyan explained. “We found her like this, ‘communicating.' Rather like you did, to teach them our alphabet—except that she learned theirs.”

Rod watched with mixed emotions. He still loved the little girl, and he wished she would return him a smile. He admired what she had done, yet he feared for her, and felt ashamed at his failure to protect her. No more prions again, ever, he had promised; but what infected her now was far worse. “Can't you clear her out? She needs to return to the colony.”

Sarai stood by the holostage, arms folded across her breasts. “Ushum's work is of critical importance. The sisterlings need her.”

“But 'jum is a human child who needs proper care.”

Khral caught Sarai's arm before she could reply. “Sarai, remember, Rod is infected, too.” She turned to Rod. “'jum carries too many micros to clear safely. But hers seem friendly; and she made an important discovery. The microzoöids ‘count' by prime factors. Each digit represents the multiplicity of each prime factor. Look.” The holostage produced a table: